


discerning

by alanxna, clairelutra



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas Presents, Gen, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, Shippy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27256135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanxna/pseuds/alanxna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelutra/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: Numair, on Daine's Midwinter gift.
Relationships: Numair Salmalín & Veralidaine Sarrasri
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	discerning

**Author's Note:**

> 100 Words of Expensive Gifts
> 
> i was already 💖💖💖 over the mention of numair giving daine the sapphire earrings for midwinter, and then tempests and slaughter just went and ENDED ME with the reveal that a) he knows how to make jewelry and b) the only people he's gifted the jewelry he's made to (thus far) are pretty girls he's lowkey/highkey crushing on.
> 
> I DUNNO IF THAT'S WHAT TP MEANT BUT IT'S SURE AS HELL WHAT I HEARD.

Numair was examining the leftovers from his latest commission when it came to him.

Chips of mage-grade sapphire glittered around the array he'd been paid to put together, crystalline and clear and deep. He would have them ground to dust—dust had its own uses—but it would be a pity to lose that shade of blue. It was a few shades too deep to match, but the tone of it put him in mind Daine's eyes.

...Daine who he still needed a Midwinter gift for.

He had gifts for Alanna and Onua and Jon, but Daine's (possibly the most important out of all of them) was still eluding him. As much as she may love the books he'd given her before, they were for schooling, not pleasure, and that wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to give her for Midwinter. She had no time or patience for games. All her favorite activities were based in practicality and learning and socialization, nothing she needed accessories for.

None of it was _entirely_ off the table, of course, but none of it seemed good enough.

He thumbed the gemstone chips, thinking.

Sapphires for clarity, sapphires for serenity, sapphires for integrity and love and _healing_ —

Sapphires for Daine.

...Oh.

That could work.

* * *

It had been a long, long time since he'd made jewelry. Sometimes he accepted commissions for magic items that happened to _be_ jewelry, but jewelry for the sake of jewelry was more personal than that. More draining, more intimate. Not something he could (or would) do for a stranger.

Thank the gods that Daine wasn't a stranger, then.

It was easy enough to decide on earrings—necklaces and bracelets and rings would either slide off or strangle her if she had to transform in a hurry. Earrings, at least, ran no risk of becoming a garotte.

Finding just the right stones—ones of the proper shade, quality, and size—would have been easier if he'd been willing to settle for any of it, but he wasn't going to skimp on his protégé's gift. The silver to set them in was easier. He kept plenty of that around for his work, and there wasn't any difference between silver for jewelry and silver for enchanting. Silver was silver.

Once he had the materials, he started working on it in his off hours, a little bit here, a little bit there, between projects and before bed. It was easier than he remembered, thinking about the properties of the stones and metals and weaving a sense of _Daine_ into them. It felt less like an effort and more like an exhalation, of sorts.

For all that it had taken him three weeks from idea to completion, the earrings were done well in time for Midwinter.

* * *

On the day of, he found her in her room, just finishing up getting ready before the festivities really began.

She'd tied back the top half of her hair with a ribbon, leaving the rest to cover her neck and shoulders in the chill. He noted with amusement that no one had successfully talked her into wearing a dress or skirt for the occasion—her green tunic and brown breeches were embroidered and made of higher quality material than her normal outfits, and it looked like someone had gifted her new boots, but those were the extent of her fine feathers.

They suited her anyway.

He knocked at the open door and said, "Midwinter's greetings, magelet. You look very nice."

She looked over her shoulder at him and grinned. "Looking fine yourself, master mage. How long did it take this time?"

"Three hours," he confessed easily. His hair had been willing to behave with only minimal convincing, but getting his robes to pin in place correctly had taken much longer than it should have. The deep folds of iron grey silk and black velvet with gold and ruby trimming were worth it, though. "It went easily this time. Mostly."

"Maybe one day you'll get it down to two," she said cheekily, and he walked into the room proper purely so he could tweak her nose.

"Speaking of getting ready," he said once she'd batted his hand away with a giggle, "I thought I'd give you your gift before the party." He pulled out the silk satchel he'd stowed the earrings in and held it out, dangling from his fingers by the drawstrings.

She cupped her palms, brow wrinkling in confusion, and he placed the satchel in them.

Gently, she pulled it open and spilled its contents into her palm—and inhaled sharply.

He watched the flurry of emotion that paraded across her face in amusement. Shock, disbelief, incredulity, borderline _offense_ , defeat, vexation, exasperated acceptance—and then it all melted into something heart-rendingly open and vulnerable.

"It's—it's much too fine for me," she protested, but her breath was a rasp, like she'd been winded. She blinked rapidly, then bit the corner of her mouth. "How much—" she started, then, rising in pitch, "These are _sapphires_ , aren't they?!"

"They are," he confirmed, half charmed and half chagrined by the reaction. "They're also a _gift."_

She looked up at him with the betrayal and despair she reserved for when she forgot she was dealing with nobles and royalty and world-famous sorcerers. "I'm—" she stared, but her voice cracked. "I'm not... I don't deserve—"

"You are, and you do."

She floundered, a pretty pink flush starting to color her cheeks. "But _why?"_

( _Why indeed?_ he wondered at himself for a moment. He didn't seem to have an answer to that beyond, _Daine deserves it_.)

"Well..." He considered, then smiled wryly, fondly. "All girls deserve _some_ pretty things. Since you refuse dresses..."

Her eyes told him that she wasn't about to accept that as a real answer, but her blush was moving up to rosy and the set of her mouth was even more vulnerable than before.

"Do you remember the properties of sapphire?" he questioned, aiming to distract her before she could put together protests or questions of her own.

She looked down at the stones and shook her head, then paused. "Um. Clarity and wisdom?"

"Clarity and wisdom," he confirmed, smiling. "Integrity and fidelity, too. Love, serenity, healing."

"Love?!" Daine cried indignantly. "Now I know what I _won't_ need it for."

( _Oh, who needs_ _love?_ _A mage only needs fun—love gets us in trouble._ )

"You might want it one day," Numair pointed out, blinking at the sudden _deja vu_. Impulsively, he wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her close enough to drop a kiss on the crown of her head. "And there's always the love of your friends."

She stayed stiff for another second, then slumped and leaned into him. "I s'pose," she mumbled, not half as grudging as she seemed to want to sound. She stayed like that for another moment, looking down at her gift, then closed her fists and wrapped his middle in a hug of her own. So quietly he could barely hear it, she added, "Thank you. They're beautiful."

"You are very welcome."

She let go and stepped back, studying the trinkets in her palm with much more open admiration now, and tugged at her earlobe.

Numair opened his mouth to offer to help her put them on, and then very abruptly, _very belatedly_ realized—her ears weren't pierced.

He shut his mouth again.

In hindsight, he'd never actually _seen_ her wearing earrings. And when one was raised in a village like Snowsdale, as practical a girl as like Daine was, he supposed that nobody would have any reason to put bits of metal in her ears, least of all herself.

...Of all the stupid, idiotic, silly, absurd, thoughtless, witless, _brainless_ missteps he could have made—

"I'll— I'll talk to Alanna," Daine was saying, shy excitement making her stammer, "she'll—..." She faltered. "Numair?"

He met her startling blue-grey eyes with chagrin so deep it was only a step away from utter mortification. "I... didn't realize." She blinked, and he gestured to his own perforated ear in example. "You don't have..."

She gazed up at him, bemused, and he felt himself blush.

"Yes, that's why I'm going to talk to Alanna, so she can poke holes in my ears," she explained, nonplussed—then understanding entered her expression... and laughter.

Numair closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Daine caught his wrist and tugged him down to her level, then pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. "They're wonderful," she promised, her voice rich and slightly strangled as she smothered her mirth. "Do you know where Alanna is?"

He took his defeat with a rueful sigh and straightened. "Giving the pages a final lecture, I expect. If she's not on the training grounds, she's probably with Jon and Thayet."

The grin she flashed him was too affectionate to be mocking. "Thanks."

He waved her off, _be gone with you_ , and followed her out of her room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"It's rare to see her so cheerful," Alanna murmured to him later, when they were both seated by the yule log. She nodded towards Daine with a smile. "You chose well."

He had, too. She'd been preening all night, fingers darting back to check that the drops were still there time and time again, blushing and beaming at every compliment to them.

"And they _are_ lovely—where did you get them?" Alanna wanted to know.

Numair opened his mouth to tell her, then faltered. "I got them from a merchant"— _'s son_ —"from Tyra," he half-lied, not entirely sure why he did. _Too personal_. "He didn't say the craftman."

"That's a shame," she sighed, then snorted. "Good luck topping it come her birthday next month, though. What next, diamonds?"

"No," he said dryly. "I think I'll stick to gifts she _won't_ be tempted to throw at my head. Maybe a pair of boots. Perhaps a nice awl."

"You? You'd never give anyone anything so unsentimental."

"I'll be sure to engrave her name on it," he replied gravely—though, in reality, it would probably be clothes, or a hunting knife. Something that could reasonably be made beautiful without affecting its practicality. "Along with plenty of flowers."

Alanna laughed, punching his arm, and stood. "Good man."


End file.
